le hour, that they
might escape that doleful company.

"What are you going to do?" said Martyn, with a yawn. "Let's have a
swim before dinner."

"Water's hot. I was at the bath to-day."

"Play you game o' billiards--fifty up."

"It's a hundred and five in the hall now. Sit still and don't be so
abominably energetic."

A grunting camel swung up to the porch, his badged and belted rider
fumbling a leather pouch.

"Kubber-kargaz-ki-yektraaa," the man whined, handing down the newspaper
extra--a slip printed on one side only, and damp from the press. It was
pinned up on the green-baize board, between notices of ponies for sale
and fox-terriers missing.

Martyn rose lazily, read it, and whistled. "It's declared!" he cried.
"One, two, three--eight districts go under the operations of the Famine
Code ek dum. They've put Jimmy Hawkins in charge."

"Good business!" said Scott, with the first sign of interest he had
shown. "When in doubt hire a Punjabi. I worked under Jimmy when I first
came out and he belonged to the Punjab. He has more bundobust than most
men."

"Jimmy's a Jubilee Knight now," said Martyn. "He's a good chap,
even though he is a thrice-born civilian and went to the Benighted
Presidency. What unholy names these Madras districts rejoice in--all
ungas or rungas or pillays or polliums!"

A dog-cart drove up in the dusk, and a man entered, mopping his head.
He was editor of the one daily paper at the capital of a Province of
twenty-five million natives and a few hundred white men: as his staff
was limited to himself and one assistant, his office-hours ran variously
from ten to twenty a day.

"Hi, Raines; you're supposed to know everything," said Martyn, stopping
him. "How's this Madras 'scarcity' going to turn out?"

"No one knows as yet. There's a message as long as your arm coming in
on the telephone. I've left my cub to fill it out. Madras has owned she
can't manage it alone, and Jimmy seems to have a free hand in getting
all the men he needs. Arbuthnot's warned to hold himself in readiness."

"'Badger' Arbuthnot?"

"The Peshawur chap. Yes: and the Pi wires that Ellis and Clay have been
moved from the Northwest already, and they've taken half a dozen Bombay
men, too. It's pukka famine, by the looks of it."

"They're nearer the scene of action than we are; but if it comes to
indenting on the Punjab this early, there's more in this than meets the
eye," said Martyn.

"Here to-day and gone to-morr